The Lord's Love
by GoddessdeFire
Summary: Right when you thought this story had faded away...it's BACK! Dilandau has a horrid day at his public high school. And this story has been upgraded from oneshotstatus to alternate endings!
1. Default Chapter

I really don't think I'm going to update this, seeing as I'm supposed to be working on another chapter, for another story. The five lines are from the song "Destory" by Fixmer/McCarthy. The song mentioned in the car ride is "Crucify" by Grendel. Pay attention to the hazel colored eyes, the begining might make sense in the end.

Disclaimer: I don't own Escaflowne, or any of the items mentioned that make money.

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Unfocused, petrified hazel eyes hazily stared up at Death itself. "You are weak," he muttered, "and worthy only of desecration."

"No, no, no…" pleaded the girl in a frightful whisper as she subconsciously stepped back with every advancing step of her assailant.

A smile spread across his pale lips, forming a sneer, and he brandished his sword with glee.

"Please don't—"

Her words were cut short as a blade found its home in her chest. She sputtered and tasted the blood trickling from her mouth faintly. With a rough jerk, the sword was dislodged from her, sending her stumbling back into the shallow shoreline of the foggy pond.

He stood there, watching her open eyes glaze over staring up at him. The girl's blood seeped into the murky green water, changing the water around her to black. Crickets chirped solemnly in a private symphony for the dying girl, the last sounds of life that she'd ever hear again.

"Must you do that, she did nothing to you?" cried a soft voice from the water.

Red eyes looked down disdainfully at his reflection to meet angelic blue.

"She's nothing to me." He growled, but before he could continue with his rant a force called him back suddenly.

"I'm so sick of that alarm clock! We bought that damn thing for you! So wake-up and turn it off, I'm not going to ask again!" yelled a woman on the opposite side of a locked wooden door.

Dilandau Albatou opened his eyes and stared up at the popcorn on his ceiling. His alarm clock was not ringing, what his foster mother heard was his stereo shuffling through a few industrial and electronica cd's he had fallen asleep to the previous night.

He sorely got out of his bed and looked at the digital numbers on his clock, _Great, ten minutes to get ready. _His fingers grasped the small plastic remote for his stereo and he switched to complete control over his cd's. He found the one song that was running through his head and turned up the volume. After which, he stumbled to the bathroom, desperately wishing he had slept more last night.

_Destroy nothing_

_Destroy nothing_

_Destroy nothing _

_To me you're nothing_

_You're nothing_

_These dreams are starting to bother me…but they feel so right. _He brushed his teeth with half effort, half sleep and combed out his white-silver locks which lovingly kissed his face and attempted to hide his demonic gaze.

He looked down at his semi-wrinkled clothing that he had forgotten to change out of last night. _I don't have time to change._ Dilandau switched off the light and grabbed his black backpack. Resting on his knees, he turned off his cd player which sat on the ground, with regret and headed into the brightly lit rooms of his home for the past five years.

His blurred vision searched for his foster mother. "Hello?" he called out across the small home.

A car honked from outside and Dilandau spun around, mildly pissed. _She could have at least told me she would be outside._

With a heavy sigh that hinted that more troubles were to come that day, he walked outside, petting his dog Jajuka in the enclosed yard, then slipped into an awaiting old silver Toyota.

"What took you so long? Trying to make me late or something?" inquired the woman with brown hair, periodically starting on, how she could not get fired from this job, through their ride to his high school.

Dilandau half listened, finding a few cds he had trouble living without in his backpack. He placed one in the car's CD player, prepared for the entourage of insults that would be thrown at him. At one point he smiled openly. _She hasn't bitched about it, I'm impressed._

His mother's silence was soon gone, "What did that guy just say? Is he screaming or whispering? What the hell Dilandau! We are not going to listen to any music about crucifying." She rudely smacked the eject button and tossed the CD out the window.

That act was more than enough to wake the boy from his sleepy state. A growl formed on his lips and he unrestrainedly twitched while turning towards the woman. He boiled with rage and his eyes morphed from their albino hue to a deep crimson.

"Imbecile!" he roared, thoroughly resisting the overwhelming urge to snap her neck.

"I am you're mother and you do not disrespect me like that!"

"Respect? You just threw my property out the window, woman!"

"I'm your mother, Dilandau."

"No, you're just the fool-hardy bitch who believed that you could make some money off of me if I modeled. Well, guess what? That's not fucking happening!"

With a gasp and a sudden swerved brake that led them off the road abruptly, the driver screamed for him to get out of the car and walk the rest of the way.

"With pleasure." He muttered, slamming the door and heading in the direction of the school.

Dilandau trudged towards the school after seriously debating whether or not he should go and retrieve the cd. _Missing another day of school might screw with my creds, better go. Anyway, the cd is probably broken…_

He managed to make it to school a few minutes before the bell was to ring. _For once I'm happy she tries to make me come to school half an hour early._

The hallways were a little more crowded than he liked, but he didn't have too much of a choice but to walk down the main hall. His locker was located there. He slightly stretched as he thumbed the correct combination in. His nimble fingers grabbed the latch to pull it up and open the gray colored locker. Only, it didn't open.

_What the fuck?_ _Why does this damn thing refuse to obey its rightful combination?_ He tried again, this time sloppily putting in the numbers. The locker opened with ease and held a few notebooks, binders, books, and many cd's. A Genitorturers and Otep cd cover was taped on the inside of the door, along with a few pictures of his dog.

He switched out the binders from his backpack, to his locker and was prepared to shut it, which was, before an uninvited guest decided to terrorize him.

"What is that thing?" a tall, blonde senior asked, his groups of idiots had been standing right in the middle of the hallway, like every other morning, laughing about nothing.

"A locker, I know they are quite amazing, aren't they?" The albino said with apparent sarcasm, once again trying to shut the door.

"No this," he extended his hand to reach for the magnet holding up the pictures.

In alarm, Dilandau's hand shot out and grabbed the other's wrist in a bruising grip, "Don't touch that."

"Damn, let go of me!"

"Never touch that." And with that malice-filled command, he gave the boy back possession of his hand and slammed the locker shut. He turned the dial a few times, to make sure it was unreachable.

The group of the blonde's friends had watched the scene and moved in, ready to taunt the boy. "So, what are you hiding in there?" asked a hazel-eyed beauty with short, stylish honey blonde hair.

"None of you're damn business." He growled out over his shoulder as he escaped from the crowded interior to the dark and abandoned grounds of the school. _If he had found that little piece of paper behind the magnet…_Dilandau physically shuddered, making a mental note to take that poem out from its hidden spot and into another soon. The poem was a love poem, addressed to his crush, Allen, just the boy who had been reaching for the crinkled paper.

He slowly came to his favorite spot, a railing behind an empty portable. A few blackened silhouettes of boys against a dark blue morning skygraced the area.

A teenager sitting contently on the ground was the first to notice his arrival, "Good morning."

After seeing the expression on his face, the boy mentally slapped himself.

With a sigh, Dilandau leaned against the beaten railing, sliding his backpack off, "I'm surprised the bell hasn't—"

A bell echoed through the school campus. "Shit." Murmured the albino, grabbing his bag and heading for his class without so much as a goodbye to his friends.

His combat boots echoed loudly as he took a solitary stairway to get upstairs. He slowly strolled down an emptied hallway; a whirring sound soon signified that he was not alone.

As he came closer to the intersection of hallways, the sound greatened. Dilandau walked in the middle of the hallway, about to take a right, when a scooter almost hit him. He jumped back in surprise, not expecting the small vehicle to have so much speed.

"Sorry, Mr. Dornkirk." Dilandau said as the old man jetted past him with oxygen tubes connected to his nose and a tank in the metal buggy in the front.

"Simply fate." The old man called breathlessly picking up speed as his raced down the hallway.

"Hn."

The teenaged boy sauntered into his first class and took his seat with visible contempt. The classroom's TV was playing the redundant music videos of MTV. A group of girls had assigned seats which surrounded him, so he tuned out their persistent screeching and rambling about attractive actors and musicians he had never heard of; he felt these singers and musicians were known by all but him.

"Dilandau, are you ok?" asked the teacher as she gathered her transparences on her desk.

"Why did you seat me here?" he asked, not caring about the sudden hush of the girls around him and their dirty looks. He sighed, _Hm, maybe she asked me what's wrong because I look messed up. _He grabbed a black compact from a small pouch in his bag. The mirror revealed to him that his red and black eyeliner was smudged from a night's sleep. He took the white powder and dabbed a little under his eyes to make him look a little less zombie-like.

The class eventually began and with only five or so interruptions from the annoying girls, they underwent the taking of notes and a discussion. He went through the rest of his classes, somewhat obedient, but thoroughly disinterested.

When lunch finally came around he headed to the multi-activity room. There, a line of snack and drink machines standing against a wall. There were also two counters selling food. He stepped into the line he found to be shorter.

A boy, a little shorter than him with unruly black hair stood alone in front of him. The pretty hazel-eyed girl stood in the neighboring line and leaned over, slapped the tan boys' ass, then returned back to her line.

Red-brown eyes glanced back confused, and all Dilandau could do was smile seductively. A frown crossed the violated boy's face as he inched closer to the front of the line. The girl laughed from her place in the unmoving line.

The boy smiled and turned towards her, "Oh, it was you! God, Hitomi, I thought some queer was behind me!"

"No, I would never let any fag near you." She giggled, stepping from her line, into Van's.

_One person, that's ok, even if she is a homophob_, Dilandau thought to himself.

They proceeded to chat nonchalantly about how terrible their teachers were and how this person was having a party on that day. A few more people that knew the two headed in front of Dilandau and the other waiting people behind him.

"I'm fucking sick of this." He growled under his breath, getting out of line to walk around the accumulating mass of people in front of him. Van was leaning forward, about to order when Dilandau showed up at the cash register and told the lunch lady what he wanted.

"That was so unbelievingly rude!" cried out a blonde girl with wavy, cascading hair.

"No, what was rude was for the seven of you shit heads to cut me." His red eyes dared them say something. _Go on, today would be a perfect day for you all to die._

They remained silent until he paid and began to walk away. _Gossiping dumbasses._

The albino boy stepped out onto the outside courtyard and headed for his shady corner, which was an outdoor hallway unused during lunch. The boys from earlier that morning were already sitting there, munching away and softly conversing about the innocent boy's precognition. Two additions were sitting with their backs to the brick wall.

Two girls, twins, with black eyeliner rimming their eyes like they were cats, sat beside each other. They were gazing down at a sketch journal with mild interest. "You need to sketch Mr. Fanel, he'd make such a perfect addition to your collection." purred the girl with deep gold hair.

"I'll do that Eriya." smiled the artist.

"No, sister, he should just draw him for us, both of us." stated the other girl with sterling silver hair.

"Dilandau, would you like to see my sketches too?" asked a boy sitting cross-legged with chin length brown hair and lavender eyes.

He shoved a few french fries into his mouth, "Yes." The paler of the two twins handed the book over to him with a hand containing five, long, sharp nails.

Dilandau flipped through the pictures of him and the rest of the boys. _These are fairly good, but it's just art. _

"What do you think?" asked the boy as he saw him near the end of the journal.

A loud and hypnotic ring tone sounded from the interior of Dilandau's backpack before he could give him any comments.He rummaged through the many pouches, finally finding the one holding his cell phone. He placed the small device to his ear without looking at the number. "Hello?"

"I want you to wash off that make-up and put on the clothes I have laid out on your bed when you get home. You have an appointment with St.Thomas Christian Academy at five, and you are wearing your blue eye contacts." His mother's voice droned on as Dilandau leaned against the wall in shock and dismay.

"Is that understood?" she asked after chattering on about how he needed more of God in his dark life.

He hung up.

He dropped the phone back into the open bag where he stood. Dilandau stared at the ground perplexed. _That bitch, if there's one place that I don't like to be, it's church_. He sighed. _So of course, she wants to put in a hellhole controlled by a church._

"Dilandau?" asked the boy with the flaxen, bowl cut hair.

"Shesta, don't talk to him right now." Dallet said, grabbing his sketchbook from the ground.

"But" began Shesta.

"Shut up!" screamed Dilandau, his face contorting harshly with his cry. He began to walk towards the boy with lethal steps, intending to do some real harm. His blue eyes widened as he was shoved against the brick wall with a muscular hand placed firmly over his face.

His red eyes narrowed in satisfaction and he laughed from his sudden explosion of emotions, which filled the courtyard. The shrill cackle alerted administrators from their designated areas across the outdoor lunch area.

With that fact in mind, the sophomore let the boy go and grabbed his back pack. He zipped it up as he stormed away, heading to the library to wait for his next class, Chemistry.

Another buzz of the bell prevented Dilandau from reaching his destination. He detoured from his original route to take a quicker course. He reached the empty classroom and placed his bag next to his science table. His red-pink eyes scanned the room and found no one watching. Quickly, he took a hold of a gas spout and turned it on to allow the smallest amount of gas to seep and diffuse into the room.

More and more people began to slowly come in and the teacher made his way to the front of the classroom. _Hm, so far no one's noticed that I'm going to kill them all._

The same group of girls that unluckily graced his first class, were scattered around in this class, doing the same thing, talking.

"Girls, the bell has rung, now get out your worksheets everybody and prepare to turn them in." said the tall and unorthodox looking teacher.

The girls continued to chatter endlessly while reaching into their large bags for little folders with cute kittens printed on them. "Yeah, believe me Millerna, you'll love contacts! Oh, and if you want you can get them in different colors like mine!" said the honey blond girl.

"Hitomi, is it just me, or is someone wearing really bad perfume?

"Ew, I don't know, but it smells bad."

The two girls turned around to the tan teenager sitting behind them. "Van, are you wearing shitty perfume again?" asked Hitomi.

"What?" he smiled, joyous to be involved in another random act of stupidity.

Millerna giggled sweetly, "Is that your cheap perfume we smell?"

"Oh no, but hey, it could be our teachers'." He whispered and the three looked at their instructor laughing quietly.

The tall, pale man was walking around, picking up papers and unknowingly giving students a chance to laugh about his obscure makeup and his constantly hidden right arm.

"Or better yet," laughed Van, "it's his." He pointed in Dilandau's direction.

The fuming boy caught the glances back and smiled evilly with his hand resting beside the spout, considering yanking the gas knob a little harsher so he could hear the reassuring hiss of gas.

"I think there's something wrong with that kid." Hitomi said smugly.

"Think? I know." Van stated.

Hitomi poked Van, "Hey, is Mr. Fanel related to you?"

"No! Oh God no," he said disgustedly, "I don't have a brother." _Or not one around…_

"Do you guys have you're papers?" their Chemistry teacher asked with his outstretched left hand.

"I'm getting it out!" cried Hitomi girlishly as her and Millerna pulled out a couple worksheets that were barely completed.

"I gave you girls three days to complete this assignment. Why is it not complete? Was it too hard?" he asked coldly in a condescending tone.

"Oh, no, we just didn't arrange out time properly." Millerna smiled.

"I hope to see some improvement from you girls or I'll be moving your seats." He said, walking away.

"That was a good one Millerna, where did you hear it?" Hitomi wondered out loud.

"Mrs. Tatern told me that would be more of an acceptable excuse than what I said."

"What did you say?"

"I dunno, I forgot." She laughed, pulling a bottleof strong perfume out from her purse. She squirted the substance five times in the air.

"Millerna, what are you doing?" asked Mr. Fanel.

"I'm just covering up that bad smell."

"This is a Chemistry lab. You cannot contaminate it with that perfume. Millerna, get out of my class room now." He monotonously demanded.

Dilandau smiled while he fingered the box of matches in his pocket and smelled the mix of gas and sick-sweet perfume. _It's almost time._


	2. Alt Ending 1

I originally intended for The Lord's Love to be a one-shot based around music and teenaged drama. Yet…seeing as there are a couple readers who really liked this,I'll continue it for now. My ideas are pretty scarce since most of the stupid drama came from an accumulated mass of experiences back in high school. I'm willing for any suggestions on how to continue this story. At the moment, I think there will be two alternative endings, wait, maybe three. This chapter is pretty short because I've been a little short on time, so I'm scared it may not be at my best quality. Though there should be more chapters popping up fairly soon that are somewhat better.

Oh, and I am changing my pen name soon, I'm going to change it after I put a few more chapters up in various stories. If you check out my profile the last week of November, I should have the actual new pen name typed up and I'll change it on the last day of that last week to it.

By the way I dedicate this chapter to the two people who reviewed, Crouge and ER.

So, read on.

Crouge: Thank you for saying my story is "fabulous"!

ER: ……………eyes very wide and eyebrow cocked……………….dealings with water buffalos? ...They're edible, right?

By the way, the disclaimer on the first chapter still applies and will always apply, so I'm not going to type it any more. If I owned Escaflowne I wouldn't be writing fan fiction, I'd make it a goddamn new series.

Chapter 2 - Alternate Ending # 1

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Dilandau's pale, slender fingers twitched in anticipation against the handle of the worn pewter lab equipment. All the students had ceased their conversations, focusing and straining their ears to listen to Mr. Fanel reprimand Millerna. Only a few coughed or waved the air around their faces to rid them of Millerna's "perfume". Dilandau listened to make sure his teacher didn't waltz right back into the classroom before he could stop him.

He took in the gas-filled air and knew his clothing had enough of the substance to set him on fire at least. His eyelids drooped with sheer delight at the thought of all the screaming teenagers and the death of his suffering.

_No more of it, no more…nothing._

The fingers on his left hand pushed the petite box from the larger match box; exposing his weapons, small match sticks. He tilted his head back, but kept his burning gaze on the match held delicately between his thumb and middle finger. The stick was hidden from view to most, even though it didn't matter. Everyone still held their attention to the door. Dilandau closed his eyes and leaned his chair back on its hind legs.

His put his feet against the table in front of him, then rested his head back on the lab counter. His silver bangs spread out and covered his widening, psychotic gaze. _They will die, all of them._ The albino could only imagine the bodies flailing in agony as the flames singed their clothes, skin, hair, eyes. He smiled. He bet they would cry when the flames felt underneath their nails and licked their eyelashes.

His heart rate accelerated from the mere thought, his breaths quickened. Too quickly, too quickly, the breaths rocketed, rocketed and took flight. Dilandau's chair slammed forward onto the ground. His momentum brought him forth into a sitting, fetal position.

One more gasp of air, then his chilling cackling began. His sitting position escalated with every wild shriek, standing him up with his back arched along with raised arms and clawed finger. The entire classroom jumped at the sudden sounds and stared at him in confusion and a few, in horror. Folken opened the door and looked in to see the commotion, Millerna peered around her teacher.

Dilandau elevated the match to its container.

The teacher suddenly recognized the smell, "Gas."

Students screamed at the top of their lungs, one screeching, "God". Folken ran to him to grab it before Dilandau could carry out his intentions, setting the room on fire like a crazed pyromaniac. But by the time the strange man made it to the middle of the room, he was too late.

Dilandau ripped the match head against the rough box edges.

The once transparent air was engulfed in a sudden yellow-orange. A round two for frightened screams barely had time to cry out their last wishes or darkest secrets, their air confiscated by the fire. Many faces distorted in terror, except for Dilandau's face which smiled in utter pleasure from the mind-numbing burns. Their bodies crackled in the blaze devoid of breathe, suffocating and incinerating…incinerating into nothing.


	3. Alt Ending 1 Ch 2

Ah! I know it was short but I didn't think anyone would ask for the after-the-explosion story. So I guess this would make this the second chapter to the alternate ending #1. Ha ha, I should call this chapter the "After Party". For anyone reading this, feel free to end this story where you want it, I honestly don't care. You can read it as a one-shot or whatever the hell. If any of you care about parallelism and that type of stuff, I have an explanation for the last paragraph of this chapter. I'll make it easy: Dilandau equals Fork.

Natsume: This chapter is just for you, hope you like.

Xanthia Nightshade: Thanks for the review and the comment that it was "well written". I'm pretty much checking everything myself so errors pop up a lot more that I'd like them to. If you read the second chapter, it pretty much sucked in general, but I hope this one is better.

I'll Be Seein' You/Silk Ribbon: Wow, I've never had a "fantasmatical" story before. More chapters (alternate endings) should be up soon.

Chapter 3 - Alternate Ending # 1 Ch. 2

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Thousands of students stood tentatively on the edges on the public high school campus. Normally, during one of the few fire drills and bomb threats that ravaged their schools annually, the many teenagers would complain about the harsh, sunny weather or dampened, rainy weather. But not this time, they stood captivated by the sight of the two-story flames and billowing sky-high black smoke. Kids, from the classrooms near the ignition site, stared on in silent horror, partially traumatized by the earlier foreshadowing screams and then the shrieks of baking children.

Sirens roared to the point of deaf ears from the many administrators and policemen staying a safe distance from the burning wing of the school whom served as the student's buffers from the falling, flaming debris. The blue lights of the government aid vehicles and sizzling blaze cast the firefighters in a solemn cobalt and orange glow. They launched water from their water hoses while struggling to keep the fire under control. They knew teenagers had been in there, but they had worked this job long enough to know no one could survive a blaze like that.

Now parents were showing up in their cars to pick up their children, make sure they were alive, andgo home without checking out at the office.The complete families thinking of less violent schools to transfer them to. A few of the dead student's parents shoved through the masses of people, searching desperately for their children. Tears stained the parent's faces as they finally came across high school attendance workers who held laptops with schedule information. The grown women and men croaked out their child's full name and nicknames with a sliver of shining hope; their glimmers of hope soon dying and fading to a pitch-black full of maddening banshee-like cries.

News reporters with their assigned vans and crews found suitable locations to shoot their breaking and seven o' clock news. A prissy blonde news reporter checked her compact, pressing the powder to her face quickly and checking her teeth for stuck food. Hastily she closed the mirror and makeup and swapped it for a microphone. She frowned an appealing, yet somber scowl as her camera man hoisted the black-grey camera up and spread the legs of the tripod, pressing his fingers to the zoom-in and zoom-out buttons. He focused in on her face with the firemen and police in the background, a few of the ex-parents wandering around and screaming belligerently at the busy cops.

The red pin prick of light came on clearly through the smoky air.

The blue glow of the television came on clearly through the stuffy room. The woman with brown hair sighed as she pulled a simple brown, fold-up chair from underneath the card table. She grunted in annoyance when she sat down, the chair squeaking from her weight. _Some "employee lounge"_, she thought spearing her micro-waved macaroni with a plastic fork.

Her eyes glanced up at the TV screen. The breaking news was on, a scene of a local high school in flames. She dropped her utensil and resisted a scream when she saw it was her son's high school on fire.

"…An explosion killed many students and teachers in the west wing of this building. It's not known yet how many students died or are still trapped within the burning walls. The combustion occurred at 11:53 a.m. in a chemistry classroom. The blast caused the fire to spread to neighboring classrooms, all of which were chemistry classrooms housing flammable chemicals..."

She was pretty sure her heart skipped a few beats when she recalled that Dilandau had chemistry after lunch.

The pretty blond woman went on to say the cause was unknown, but was interrupted. A member of her news team shoved a plain piece of paper with scribbled handwriting on it in her face. She snatched the paper while keeping eye contact with the camera. She looked down at it and read what her colleague wrote. "Correction, the firefighters have calmed the fire enough to go in the building. They say the explosion started in the back of a classroom. It's believed a person detonated the fire with a match or lighter." She looked up, "If you're just tuning in…"

The brunette turned off the television. She knew, despite her many parental rants, that her son carried matches with him constantly. Too many things added up for her to speed down to the school in her p.o.s. and search for her child's face among the crowd. She reached down to pick up the abandoned fork, but did not for the pale and stained fork was too far out of her reach.

She wept.


End file.
